


Crook's Assistant

by Swashbuckler



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Baking, Banter, Brotherly Love, Cookies, Family Dynamics, Father Figures, Gen, Humor, Paternal Instinct, The Rogues (DCU) As Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-23 00:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18538387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swashbuckler/pseuds/Swashbuckler
Summary: “Whatcha makin’?”Mick glanced down at Axel; the kid was leaning on the counter beside him, watching him curiously.“Cookies,” Mick said, continuing to pour sugar into the bowl on his scales. “Wanna help?”





	Crook's Assistant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ScotchxDisaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScotchxDisaster/gifts).



> Based on a conversation with ScotchxDisaster that I suddenly had inspiration to fic! :D I hope you like it!

“Whatcha makin’?” 

Mick glanced down at Axel; the kid was leaning on the counter beside him, watching him curiously. 

“Cookies,” Mick said, continuing to pour sugar into the bowl on his scales.

“You bake?” 

Mick shrugged. “Yeah. Bake when I get stressed.” 

“What y’ stressed ‘bout?” 

“Not stressed right now,” Mick reassured him, his voice a gentle rumble. “Was just an example of when I do. Just fancied it today. Even if I’m not stressed, ‘s still relaxing.”

“Fair.” 

Mick checked the scale’s reading, shaking another sprinkling of sugar out of the bag. He nodded, folded the edge of the bag over and set it aside, tipping the sugar over the brick of butter sat in the glass bowl in front of Axel. The teen shifted at his elbow, glancing from the bowl to Mick.

_He’s too quiet,_ Mick thought. _What’s ‘e--? Ah._

“Wanna help?” Mick asked with a smile, nodding at the bowl. Axel lit up.

“Can I?”

“Course y’ can,” Mick said, giving the teen a gentle nudge with his elbow. _Thought that might be what y’ wanted, not that y’ were gonna ask._ “Ah!” Mick chided when Axel reached for the bowl. “Wash your hands first.” 

“A’ight.” 

“And put an apron on,” Mick added over his shoulder as the tap started running.

“Aw, come on, I don’t need--”

“Apron,” Mick reiterated firmly. 

“Urghhhh, _fine_.” 

Mick flinched as water was flicked at him. “Oi,” he warned as Axel sniggered, flicking more water off his fingers at him as he bounced around the kitchen. Mick chucked the dish towel at his face, which, unfortunately, Axel caught, sticking his tongue out smugly. 

“Does your apron say ‘hot stuff’?” he asked with a spluttered laugh, pointing at Mick’s chest. Mick’s ears went red. 

“Gag gift off the guys,” he mumbled as Axel grinned. He opened a cupboard beneath the sink and pulled out another apron, passing it to Axel. 

Axel frowned at the text on it. “‘Kiss me, I’m English’?” he read off. Mick grinned.

“Gag gift off the guys for Evan,” he said. “He did _not_ appreciate it.”

Axel laughed, sticking the apron on over his neck. His smile dropped when he realised how the apron went all the way down to his ankles. He huffed and folded it at his at his stomach so it instead reached no further than his knees.

“Need a hand with the strings?” 

“Nah, man, I can fix my bombs with my eyes closed, I got this, yo.” 

Mick’s eyes went wide. _Please say you don’t actually do that._ The kid span on the spot to prove his handiwork, skidding a little as his socks slipped on the kitchen floor. 

“Right - what we doing next?” 

Mick handed him a wooden spoon. “You start creaming the butter and sugar together and I’ll sort out the eggs and flour.”

“‘Kay.” 

Mick chuckled as Axel started furiously jabbing at the lump of butter to break it up and mush the sugar into it.

“Hey-- we’re making chocolate chip cookies, right? You’re not making any of that raisin-oat schtick, right?” Mick huffed out a laugh, 

“Nah, chocolate chip.” He shook his head fondly when Axel sighed heavily in relief. “Hey, raisin ‘n’ oat cookies aren’t that bad. I quite like ‘em.”

“Weirdo.” 

“Oi.”

* * *

Mick paused, half-empty sieve still held over the mixing bowl.

“You good?” Axel had slouched, his grip slack on the wooden spoon. “Your arms tired?” 

“No,” Axel said firmly, straightening up and gripping the spoon again. Mick fought back a smile.

“You sure you don’t want me to take over? 

“No.”

“Okay,” hummed Mick, faithfully stoic. “If you’re sure.”

* * *

“I mean--” Axel said, pinching a chocolate chip and then another from the open bag “--I did most of the work.”

“Mmhmm,” Mick hummed, stirring the bowl of mix held under his arm. 

“You’re just like, finishing off the last bit. ‘Cause it’s not fair if I hog it all and don’t let you have a go.”

“Mmmhmm.”

* * *

“There we go,” Mick said cheerfully, sliding the baking tray into the oven. 

“How long we gotta wait?” Axel asked from his perch on the kitchen counter, kicking his feet as he unreservedly tipped a handful of chocolate chips back into his mouth. 

“Not long,” Mick said, twisting the timer round. “Will be done pretty quick. We should probably…” His gaze slid to their pile of washing up that had been stacked in the sink. 

Axel looked at the dishes in the sink. He looked at Mick.

“...Mark’s on washup this week,” he suggested casually, popping another chocolate chip into his mouth. Mick’s lip twitched.

“...Yes. Yes he is.”

* * *

“Oh man, these are good,” Axel groaned. “What was it you said you added to them?” 

“Bit of nutmeg, bit of cinnamon,” Mick said, taking a bite of his own cookie. “Ground cloves. Just gives it a nice boost.” The kid looked like he was gonna cry. “You like ‘em?” 

Axel nodded aggressively, mouth full of cookie. “A lo’. You’re really a good baker, Mick.” 

Mick fuzzed a hand over Axel’s hair. “Hey, you helped with these. You should take some of the credit.” 

Axel shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, I _guess_.” He went quiet for a moment, eyeing the plate of cookies. “Hey, uh - the others don’t know we made these, right?” 

“Uhh...no…?” 

Axel looked at Mick. Mick looked at Axel.

“Won’t tell them if you don’t.” 

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> Mick Rory is shaped like a friend but, more importantly, he is shaped like a dad.


End file.
